


The disasterous adventures of Juno Steel

by Pierogis4days



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, I have never done this before please go easy on me, Juno Steel and Me Pretending That The Final Resting Place Finale Never Had Taken Place, M/M, angst and fluff probably, i don't know what this is going to be yet, jupeter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-15 22:46:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pierogis4days/pseuds/Pierogis4days
Summary: "Juno? Juno!"Peters voice snapped me back to conciousness. I have been falling in and out for a while now. Having to run at your top speed from a dozen murder robots with a stabbing wound in your thigh can do that to you. And even though I might be an expert in ignoring pain, both physical and emotional (and GOD, did that hurt), I could only run so far before collapsing to the ground due to blood loss.





	1. Talk to me.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic, because I can not live without that Nureyev/Steel content.  
> English in not my first language so please go easy on me! And if you correct my spelling I will be greatful
> 
> Warnings: graphic blood, near death due blood loss.

"Juno? Juno!"

Peters voice snapped me back to conciousness. I have been falling in and out for a while now. Having to run at your top speed from a dozen murder robots with a stabbing wound in your thigh can do that to you. And even though I might be an expert in ignoring pain, both physical and emotional (and GOD, did that hurt), I could only run so far before collapsing to the ground due to blood loss. 

I looked around, my vision blurry. I didn't remember how I got there, but I assumed Peter must have dragged me to this storage room, or whatever. It was lit by a single, sad light bulb hanging on a couple of wires from the ceiling. It didn't provide much light, but I could see a bunch of shelves and cabinets, which were originally intended to keep cleaning supplies in, but Peter had aparently found a new use for them - a "Do It Yourself" kind of barricade, blocking the door. I could hear the robots outside, their metal claws almost burrowing through. 

"Talk to me, Juno."

I squinched my eyes, trying to focus on Peters face. He was kneeling down in front of me, trying to close the blood flow with his bare hands. His breathing was heavy, his eyes wild with fear. I could feel his hands shaking as he was pressing down, form exhaution, or maybe... panic. Peter was panicking.

I felt my gut twist, a very physical reaction, but my brain seemed to be failing to follow. I should be panicking too, if Peter, the master of keeping a straight face, was looking at me like he saw a ghost. A morbidly frightening, horrible ghost. Or maybe death itself. But I just couldn't gather my thoughts, I felt as my ability of logical thinking was slipping away. I just wanted him to stop looking at me like that, his eyes drilling through me.  


So I mumbled something that sounded like: "Mornin', beautiful,"

It was supposed to sound nonchalant, to lighten up the mood a little bit, but it just came out a weak, hoarse whisper. The result was opposite to what I intended.  


"God, are you starting to hallucinate?"

"Hey, self-deprecating jokes are my thing." Peter never did self-deprecating. He did the exact oposite. The situation must be really bad.

"I called Rita from your comms, help should be on it's way. You must last until then."

"Rita... I never paid her for that one month..." I remembered, thinking about how she would loose her job if I didn't make it. She should have chosen a better job anyway, with an actually reliable boss... 

"Well, you are going to do so, as soon as you get out from the hospital, where I just might have to carry you myself, if Rita doesn't... hurry up." He looked at the door, like he was expecting my secretary to kick it down any second now. "Then you're going to get some sleep. But not now. Now you need to stay awake for me, Juno."

"I'm awake."

"Good. You are going to be fine."

I had a feeling that he didn't fully believe that himself, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I made a mistake of looking down.  
It was pretty bad down there. A lot of blood, everywhere, soaking through my pants, dripping on the floor, on Peters hands, on my hands... I was pretty sure there was more blood outside than insinde of my body. My hed began spinning, and I only managed to mumble a couple of curses before I was out again.

_______________________________________________________________ 

I woke up in a car. The first thing I saw was Peters face, so close to mine but facing away, his hands on my back, supporting my weight. Someone else pressed on my leg, which now was wrapped tightly with a piece of cloth just above the wound. Peter was yelling at the driver, probably to go faster, and the driver yelled something back. I didn't catch that, but I recognized Ritas voice (there is no way not to recognize her, really).

Then Peters eyes met mine, and his expression softened for a split second, a shadow of a gentle smile crossing his face.  
"How kind of you to join us again!" He said, and though his eyes were tired and his hair was still a mess, it almost seemed that he has collected himself already, but the slight hoarseness in his voice gave him away.

I noticed where that piece of cloth came from. "Your shirt is ruined."

"Ruined? Torn off sleaves are the latest big fashion trend! Haven't you heared, detective?" He grinned. "But if you don't like it, then it lookes like I'm going to have to borrow some of your clothes, if that's okay with you?"

"Sure, I-"

"J, are you feeling okay? Breathe, J, you need to breathe!" I was cut off by no other but Mick Mercury, who now I recognized was the one pressing on the wound. 

"I AM breathing, Mick I know how to breathe." It came out a little more annoyed than I intended it too, but it still didn't work.

"Breathe in... breathe out. Come on Juno, breathe in..."

"Mick I'm fine, please."

The car must have run something over, because it shook violently, throwing Nureyev against the window, and me against Nureyev. Which wouldn't be that bad if not the fact that Mick was thrown against me and my leg. I shouted because it fucking hurt so much, and I felt it getting wet again, and for a second I wished that I'd rather not have a leg at all. The pain made me slip away again, but this time Nureyev took my face into his hands which were still covered in my own blood, and said, looking into my eyes: "Juno, focus. Stay with us, you are not passing out again."

So I tried very hard not to. I put my hands on Nureyevs and focused on the touch, like it was the last thing keeping me on Mars. Nureyevs gaze was so intense, I had to look away. His hand slid to my neck and then my shoulders. I shivered, suddenly feeling cold. So very cold...

We must have made it to the hospital because the car stopped moving and Nureyev was trying to pick me up from the seat, but I was too heavy, or maybe he was too exhausted. So Mick tried and he could barely hold me, but he managed somehow, even when I tried to fight him and smacked him in the face by accident. I wondered for a moment If I could pick Peter up like that. Sure, he was a couple of inches taller, but judging by the way he moved so gracefully and effortlessly, he must have been light as a feather. And his legs were so long, like a model. Would it look weird? I didn't care.  
And with that thought in mind, blinded by the hospital lights reflecting from white hospital walls, I was unconcious again. I guessed that counted as "making it".


	2. An intervention.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Juno Steel, private eye, could not waste any more time staring at the ceiling in a hospital bed, so the moment Mick left the room he was ready to go back to his cozy cave, aka his apartment. But when he finally opens the door to it, he finds his cave not being so cozy anymore…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little more silly and fluffy that the previous Juno-almost-dying chapter. No warnings needed!

"And you're not going to try to escape through the window as soon as I close this door, right?"

"Right."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Good bye!"

"Bye, J!"

Mick closed the door slowly, peeking through for as long as he could, before shutting it all the way. I waited a couple of seconds, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed and observing the shadow of his feet visible in the gap between the door and the floor, until it disappeared and Mick was gone. 

I jumped off the bed and started gathering my things into a bag. There wasn't much of it, I spent (waisted) only two nights there after all, so I didn't exactly nestle in. Not that I was planning to. I only stayed there for so long because half of the time I was still unconcious or unable to move, and then Rita and Mick showed up and refused to leave me alone for a second, because I "don't let myself take a break even after I was literally dying a few hours ago". 

I stepped into the bathroom to change from this horrendous polka dot hospital gown into some clean clothes that they thoughtfully brought me. The ones I arrived in two days back were all soaked with blood and ripped, and there was no saving them, so I just put them in the trash. I don't think I'll miss them, I have two identical pairs of black-ish pants just like that back in my apartment. As I was changing I tried to avoid looking in the mirror as much as I could, but I did get a glimpse of my face and suddenly I understood why Rita gasped when she saw me before. I looked like a deadman.

My leg still wasn't in the best shape. It hurt a lot when I was walking, and a tolerable ammount when I wasn't putting pressure on it, so I just had to limp awkwardly every time I wanted to go anywhere. The wound was closed with stitches and freshly bandaged, but it was nowhere near healed. I murmured some curses as I was putting on clothes.

When I was finished I rushed to the exit, but hesitated before opening, my hand on the door knob. I looked back to see one more thing that wasn't originally there, standing on the counter beside the bed, outstanding with bright colors againt neutrally dull hospital walls. Rita has put it into a plastic water bottle, because we didn't really have a proper vase. I considered it for a moment, because it wasn't technically mine, well, it was a gift I guess but I didn't ask for it. It would be weird to leave it behind for some nurse to throw away, so I took the bouquet with me. I leaned in closer and smelled the roses and the dahlias. I wouldn't really expect those particular flowers to go well together, smell and visual-wise, until I saw them in one bouquet. The smell was still vivid and full of life, even after two nights spent in this hospital room that seemed to be able to suck all the will to live out of you. It made my nose tingle a little bit. 

I opened the door and limped my way through the corridors, trying to look casual, and not to run into any nurses. They wouldn't be able to stop me from leaving, but I just didn't have the energy to argue with strangers right now. When I stepped outside I immediately felt the cold, martian wind. It was getting late, too late to go straight to my office, like I was planning. I called a cab and tried to protect the petals of the flowers I was holding from getting blown away as I was waiting. 

_______________________________________________

I finally got to my apartment door. I searched for the keys through my pockets, trying to hold on to the bag and the flowers clumsily. I couldn't wait to finally be in my own house, to flop on my bed still fully dressed and fall asleap immediately. That was quite a fantasy for a chronic insomniac, and I was not goint to let anything get in my way to the bedroom, not tonight, when there was a chance of getting a decent ammount of sleep, which occurred once in a damn decade. When I finally found the right key and tried to unlock the door, I stopped, frozen. It was already open.

There was someone in there. And they definitely heared me.

I didn't have my blaster on me. Shit.

There wasn't anything I could use as a weapon in an empty corridor. And I was pretty sure Rita didn't pack a gun into a sandwitch paper for me when she brought me the bag to the hospital. I wasn't armed, but the least I could do was to sound convincing. 

So I kicked the door open with a loud:

"Put your hands in the air!"

And I almost choked on air. I didn't even notice when I dropped the flowers to the floor.

"What a welcoming! It's nice to see you too, Juno." Peter smiled widely. He was holding a mop like it was a scepter, his sleaves (no, wait, my sleaves, that was definitely my black turtle neck) were tucked up, and he was wearing pink rubber gloves. "I must admit, you startled me just a little bit!" 

I noticed him slipping something back into the back pockets of his pants. It was too small of a motion to notice what that was exactly, but I could imagine it being a knife, Nureyevs weapon of choice.

"What the hell, Nur..." I stopped myself, careful not to shout his name for every neighbour to hear, then closed the door behind me and picked up the bouquet from the floor. It was pretty roughed up by this point. "...Nureyev. What are you doing in my house? And what are you doing TO my house?" 

I eyed him up and down. I didn't expect him to be here at all. Hell, I didn't expect him to be still on Mars. I figured that he must have been there, in the hospital, when I was still unconcious, because when I woke up the flowers have already been there, and of course they were from Nureyev, that was quite clear. And I was well aware of the fact that it was better for him not to show up too frequently in public hospitals full of security cameras, which he always tried to avoid as much as was possible. But I thought he left as soon as he made sure I was stable, and went off on some heist in the outerspace, as he usually did. 

And what was the deal with that outfit? 

"Oh, I wanted to talk to you about that. This" He gestured widely around him. "Is an intervention, Juno."

"What."

"After we brought you to the hospital I planned on visiting your apartment-"

"Breaking into my apartment,"

"Of course I did break in, you didn't exactly have a chance to give me the keys yet. I wanted to visit for just a moment, to borrow a shirt from you, as you let me, but Juno." He took the gloves off and walked closer as he was speaking, and then put his hands on my shoulders ans squeezed lightly. "I have never seen a living space, and I assure you I have seen many, this filthy." 

We stared each other in the eyes for a moment. He looked much better than the last time I saw him, though there was still a slight shadow under his eyes. His hair was pushed back and he didn't have any makeup on. He didn't need it, really, but he enjoyed wearing some eyeliner, which he was skilled in applying, and lipstick, usually soft nude pink, deep red when he was feeling fancy. I didn't remember ever seing him with a completely bare face. He must have not expected me to be back this soon. But there was something endearing in seeing him dressed so casual. 

Then I gasped in realisation, freed myself from Peters grasp and maneuvered around him to see the rest of the apartment. 

"Do be careful, the floor is still wet!"

"You mopped the floor? You mopped the floor, Nureyev?" I stood there in disbelief, hands grasping on my hair in terror. "You moved everything... this is not right! How am I supposed to find anything like this!"

"Like I said, this is an intervention, a shock therapy if you will, because darling, I adore you but that was just unlivable!" He said quickly so I didn't have a chance to interrupt him, while he leaned against the door frame, standing on the egde of a dry spot. "Cleaning this place up took me two days and this is a small apartment, Juno!" 

"I didn't ask for this..." I fell to my knees, not minding the wetness. Peter flinched, but didn't say anything. "It was fine the way it was..."

I almost didn't recognize my own apartment in a state like this. The furniture has been moved, so Nureyev could access every inch of the floor. I didn't want to think about what could be found under the couch or behind the shelves, because I didn't remember the last time I vacuumed, or really looked there at all. The only thing I was certain of was that I definitely never mopped. 

At least it looked like Nureyev didn't actually open any of the cabinets, just picked up what was lying on the floor and moved it somewhere else. That was good. I didn't know what would happen if he decided to throw away dozens of files and papers that were in there. They didn't all fit in the office, and I was often bringing them home anyway so I could look through them quickly in the middle of the night if I needed to. It didn't look like it to an outsider, but they were organized and I needed all of them for my work. It was all important research, both for ongoing and long closed cases. Rita has tried very hard to make me not print out every page I was going to read, she said I could read it off the screen just as fine, but she didn't get it - I needed the real thing in my hands to actually remember what it was saying. It helped me to visualise. 

After a long pause, Nureyev spoke again: "The bedroom floor should be dry by now, what do you say we move the conversation there?" He smiled innocently, tilting his head. 

"Is the kitchen floor dry? Because I think I need a drink." 

Nureyev laughed, but I wasn't joking.  
"I'm afraid you would have to walk through the living room to get there, and I can't allow you to ruin hours of my work, you know." 

"I'm already half way through" I said, but I stood up and walked back so I wasn't bringing any more dirt there. "Why are you here, anyway? Did you miss your flight or something?"

"Do I need a reason to want to spend time with my favourite detective?" 

I tried to read his eyes. He looked at me confidently, it almost felt like he was challenging me or something. The corners of his mouth were tilted in a slight smirk, his default facial expression. Was he hiding something? 

"So were you just... here, all this time?"

"I didn't sleep here, if that's what you're asking."

"You could have," I said before I could stop myself. I looked down and started to mechanically play with the edge of my shirt. "Uh... I mean you didn't have to get a hotel room. You've been here before, it would have saved you the trouble."

"But I would be so lonely sleeping here without you, Juno." I didn't notice when he got so close again. A smirk could be heared in the tone of his voice. He leaned in even closer and I could feel his cologne and a gentle, steady breath just above my right ear. I persistently continued to look away. "I was so worried about you. I'm sorry I wasn't with you in that hospital when you woke up..."

"It's fine, I know. Mick and Rita were there, so-" I stuttered when I felt Nureyevs hand slinding slowly down my shoulder, then my arm. It was the slightest touch, but it sent shivers down my spine, and it felt like electricity. He took the bag from me with his other hand and dropped it on the floor where we were standing. My thoughts were racing, in my mind I was undressing him already, our clothes ending up on the floor beside the bag. I missed kissing him so badly, I wanted to hear his breath quicken and to mess up his perfect hair, but...

But then Nureyevs fingers reached my hand and snatched the bouquet from it in one smooth motion. He stepped away and looked at the flowers fondly, adjusting a few broken leaves and smoothing crushed petals with the tips of his fingers. 

"Oh, shit, sorry." I shaked my head to help me return to reality. "I kind of smooshed them."

"No no, it's okay. They're not that damaged, I'm sure they can be saved if we put them in water soon." He looked up at me from behind the flower heads. His dark brown eyes contrasted with the many pinks, yellows and reds of dahlias and roses. It was a pretty sight, but it didn't last long, because he turned away and started looking for something vase-like to put them in. I rushed to help him, and soon the flowers were standing on a kitchen table, some sloping a bit towards the ground, but most of them intact. Many days later I would spend long hours leaning on the table, tracing the delicate shapes of their petals during sleepless, lonely nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want more :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Comment if you want more of whatever that was! Support is very much appreciated!


End file.
